Careless
by sophiedoodle
Summary: Complete! How Chakotay ended up with Seven and the aftermath. Don't worry--it's J/C as always!
1. Chapter 1

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 1

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. It had been rather flattering at first, although he wasn't one who usually gravitated towards flattery. It had been a welcome diversion from the day-to-day stresses of Voyager, although he was normally quite content with his life outside of his duties. And, if he truly admitted to the deepest whisperings of his heart, it had been a way to punish _her _and maybe himself too, although it was never anything he would have consciously planned to do.

But now, suddenly, it had become so much more. It had become a path leading towards an almost-love, almost-antipathy that he just couldn't seem to follow. It had become unreal pleasure. It had become too-real torture. It had become guilt.

And of all things, he wasn't a man who dealt in guilt. But at this point, he didn't know how to pull himself from the mire.

When Seven had first approached him, he had almost laughed. He had heard rumors that the Doctor had been tutoring her on interpersonal relationships, specifically of the romantic genre, but he had never expected to become an active variable in the experiment. He and Seven had never been particularly close or even particularly friendly with one another; in fact, the only other member of the crew he had once harbored such antipathy towards had been Tom Paris. Yes, their unintentional mission on Ledos had gone a long way towards helping them understand one another, and he had finally begun to see the potential that Kathryn was immersed in when it came to her Borg protégé. But he had never thought that their tentative friendship would progress any further.

And then she had asked him out.

Chakotay was not an unkind man, and he had seen the fear of rejection in her eyes that belied the offhand passivity of her words. And so he had accepted with some trepidation. And then been pleasantly surprised.

Dating and romantic relationships were totally new to Seven, a facet of humanity previously unexplored, and her refreshing innocence tamed by her not-quite-admitted hesitance brought a lightness to his heart that was entirely unexpected. He found himself captivated, if not necessarily by her, then by the experience of teaching someone so open and unencumbered by past heartaches about what it meant to give yourself to someone else.

In many ways he could be honest with her. He didn't have to manipulate her into spending time with him by couching it in terms of work. He didn't have to temper the smile that would spread across his face when she walked into a room. He didn't have to hide his feelings and pretend with every ounce of his self-control that their relationship was purely platonic.

In many ways, it was freeing.

But in other ways, and in all the wrong ones, he felt the shackles of his bondage cutting even more sharply. Because despite the simplicity of his relationship with Seven, despite the straightforwardness of his blossoming feelings for her, it was still wrong.

Wrong for him and wrong for her. Because when it came down to it, _he_ was wrong. Wrong for stepping onto this path in the first place, wrong for encouraging something that he knew would never have a happy ending. Wrong for turning his back on Kathryn.

And he _had _turned his back. On her. On his promises. On his hopes and dreams and every ounce of the _someday_ that had kept him going _every day_ for the past years on-board Voyager. And when you derailed yourself from the driving force that kept you going, you simply went nowhere.

That was where Chakotay was. Stopped in his tracks.

And then the Admiral came and suddenly everything in his life snowballed into an avalanche whose incipient fury buried him far below the surface of his good intentions.

Number one, they got home.

And number two, _she told Kathryn_.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 2

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. They were finally back in the Alpha Quadrant, they were finally on Earth, they were finally home.

_And he was escorting Seven of Nine to the welcome home party._

For how many years had he dreamed of this moment? A beacon in the distance when the day-to-day drudgery bent his shoulders beneath its endless weight. To him it was a vision, encapsulated in perfection, a long-awaited blessing. He could see it vividly in his mind.

The ballroom at Starfleet Headquarters, alight with twinkling chandeliers, soft music shimmering in the air. Applause from a hundred--a thousand--people, both Starfleet and Maquis, thundering in his ears. But his attention would be captured by only one thing, only one woman. Kathryn, her hand threaded lightly through his arm, her head tilted back to grace him with her enchanting smile. Flawless in a flowing red dress that accentuated far more than her everyday uniform. Her hair long again, twisted up just in the front with the bulk cascading freely down her back, the dancing strands teasing him with the softest of touches as they walked slowly and quietly into the room, savoring the moment and savoring, after far too long and far too much, each other.

Their moment of conquest, their moment of victory.

So why was he walking into the room alone?

He supposed that part of him should have been grateful that Seven had been caught up in a last-minute project with the Doctor and was meeting him there later. His disillusionment would have absolute if he had been forced to walk in with _Seven _on his arm. There was something to be said about clinging to the last fragments of a dream gone bad.

And he wondered to himself how Kathryn would have taken him entering _their_ party with another woman in his arms. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her more than he already had.

She knew. Of course, she knew. The Admiral had told her, probably hoping to shock her into agreeing to her plans. The last hours and days aboard Voyager had been a façade. Her voice, her smile, her friendship had been merely a by-product of their command functions, increased in demand by the myriad protocols and inane details of the ship arriving back in the Alpha Quadrant. In some ways, she acted as she always had, but there was less laughter, fewer true emotions, and no moments of the real Kathryn. Her blue eyes were like chips of ice in a face frozen by the disappointment of all the years. He could barely look at her. Yes, she knew.

And neither of them spoke about it.

He made his entrance into the ballroom as unobtrusive as possible, although he expected no fanfare on his own. The glory of the evening rested in the hands of the intrepid Captain of Voyager. He was merely an appendage to her greatness and would be newsworthy only in her presence as the renegade Maquis Captain turned loyal Starfleet First Officer. He grimaced and realized in his mind that perhaps the only person who had never entertained that mental picture of him was Kathryn Janeway. She saw him just as Chakotay, and that was all he ever wanted to be to her.

No heads turned his way as he meandered through the mingling crowd strewn across the room. He half-wondered if anyone would even recognize him in the formal tuxedo he had chosen for the evening. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn one—or even if he ever had. Most formal functions he had attended in his life were Starfleet-mandated and required only his dress uniform. As he reached the middle of the room, his attention was caught by a wave from Tom and B'Elanna. He changed course and headed in their direction, taking in the radiant smile on his old friend's face and the pride that glimmered in Tom's otherwise mischievous eyes.

"Hey, old man," B'Elanna said, pulling him into a hug. The entire crew had seen each other briefly earlier in the day but there had been no time or circumstance for casualness or even hellos as Voyager's Captain had been relieved of her command, and Voyager had been placed back into the eagerly waiting hands of Starfleet Command. Kathryn had held her head high and graciously accepted her dismissal as well as her promotion to admiral with the same measure of quiet dignity. Chakotay had never been more proud of her because he alone probably knew the full extent of the destruction of her heart. In the essence of a day, she had gained the Alpha Quadrant but had lost everything else that had become so dear to her, and he wondered how she would possibly pick up the pieces.

"Nice to see you, too, B'Elanna," he replied, reaching out to embrace her husband as well. "I must say I've never seen the two of you so happy." Tom looked away with a smirk, shifting his feet.

"Personally, I've never seen the two of us look so exhausted," Tom remarked with a grin, nudging B'Elanna with his elbow. She playfully slapped his arm away and rolled her eyes. "Those two a.m. feedings are killer. Along with the 4 a.m. ones and the 6 a.m..."

"You'd think _he_ was taking an active part in it, the way he goes on," B'Elanna said disparagingly, but her eyes were teasing. "Whenever the baby cries, he wakes me up and then rolls over and goes back to sleep."

"That's not true!" Tom protested through his laughter. B'Elanna's eyebrows shot up in a gesture worthy of Tuvok. "Okay, it's partly true, but…" Chakotay slapped him on the back, grinning.

"You'd better quit while you're ahead, Tom," he advised. "Upsetting a sleep-deprived Klingon could be hazardous to your health."

"You'd better listen to him, Thomas Eugene Paris," his wife taunted. "He has much more sense than you do."

"Yeah, sense enough not to get involved with-" Tom muttered but was interrupted with a well-timed question from Chakotay.

"So where is the little night owl? I see her grandparents are here."

"Tom's sister offered to forgo the festivities and watch her," B'Elanna responded. "She has three children of her own so we figured she would be well-qualified." She winked in Tom's direction. "Daddy over there is slightly over-protective." Tom's mouth opened to retort, but any reply he might have made was swallowed up by a familiar voice from behind them.

"There you are, Commander. We were wondering when you were going to show up." The group turned to greet the familiar face of Kathryn Janeway. Her lips were set in a brilliant smile, and Chakotay couldn't remember the last time he had seen her looking so beautiful. He didn't even stop to think before walking over and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Kathryn," he murmured in her ear. "You look incredible." When they disentangled themselves, she was blushing slightly and her hand had strayed to her hair, professing to smooth the wavy strands that flowed in freefall down her back. Chakotay caught his breath.

She was wearing a red dress.

"Chakotay, I'd like you to meet my mother," she said almost shyly, gesturing to a petite woman standing next to her. "Mom, this is Commander Chakotay, my former First Officer on Voyager, one of the finest officers I've ever worked with. Chakotay, my mother, Gretchen Janeway." Chakotay reached out to shake hands with Gretchen, but instead she pulled his face down and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you for taking care of my Katie," she said warmly, with a smile that mirrored her daughter's. "I know she's difficult sometimes."

"Mom…" came Kathryn's half-hearted protest. Then she laughed out loud. "Just so you know, I'm difficult at _all_ times. Chakotay should know. He had to put up with me for seven straight years, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And quite often coffee-deprived." Then entire group winced simultaneously then burst into genuine laughter. Gretchen's face glowed, and Chakotay knew she was touched by the obvious love and respect that the crew had for her daughter.

"It wasn't all bad," Chakotay finally defended his captain, putting a conciliatory arm around Kathryn's shoulders. He felt her shiver at the contact against her bare skin and his stomach begin to churn. "In fact, if truth be told, in many ways it was the best seven years of my life." He felt his voice constrict with the last words and cursed himself for becoming emotional in what should have been a joyous and light-hearted occasion. But there were murmurs of assent all around and suddenly they were talking, really talking, about their experiences in the Delta Quadrant and how they had been changed by them. Within moments, Admiral Paris and his wife had joined them followed by Harry Kim and his parents. Although their discussion had a serious edge, there was definite and frequent laughter, and Chakotay felt like his heart was on fire.

And then Kathryn reciprocated his earlier gesture by slipping her arm around his waist and resting her hand in the small of his back. He felt his breath leave him as all the sounds in the room faded into a slow murmuring in the background. People, conversations, words became indistinct until all he could feel was her hand against him, her fingers softly stroking small circles over his spine that nearly brought him to his knees. He could hear only his breath which was coming slowly, each inhale and exhale miles apart; his heart beat in rhythm, his blood even pausing in its course as his entire being came to a concentrated near-standstill. He turned his head to look at Kathryn, and she met him with her familiar half-smile. Her eyes were luminous. Magnetic. He felt himself unable to turn away from her gaze.

"Chakotay. I have been looking for you." He felt a presence at his side and a swift brush of lips across his own.

Time froze. Conversation slowly petered away into silence as all eyes turned to the tall blonde woman who had come up behind him. He felt Kathryn's hand turn into stone, abruptly ceasing its gentle ministrations and dropping with an almost audible thud to her side. He opened his mouth to speak, almost wanting to protest, but any coherent speech was lodged firmly in his throat.

"Seven." It was Kathryn's voice and suddenly time once more regained its equilibrium, conversation coming back into focus, the sights and sounds of the room almost overwhelming him in their sudden intensity.

"Captain Janeway. Or should I say Admiral." And then the melee began once again, with introductions being made and stories being started or continued. But Chakotay no longer took any active part. He stood next to Seven of Nine, holding her hand in his, smiling in all the right places. But Kathryn was now standing at the other side of the group. He didn't remember her even moving away from him.

But he would never forget the look in her eyes.

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 3

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. Why he had accepted Starfleet's offer of the captaincy of Voyager. He loved the ship, loved everything it stood for. But they were home now, and it would never be the same. _Without her_. He looked out across the night-lit skyline of San Francisco showcased by the balcony of his apartment and sighed. He stared morosely into the tepid cup of tea he still cradled in his hand, watching his slight movements cause minute vibrations that disturbed its surface and then stilled again. He heard a sound behind him and knew that Seven had opened the French doors and slipped out to join him. She touched his arm lightly, but when he did not initiate further contact, she moved a little farther down the wrought-iron railing and rested her elbows on its surface, surveying the landscape with him.

"It is a beautiful view," she remarked into the empty air around them. Chakotay glanced at her in surprise; it was highly unlike Seven to indulge in "small talk," even in his presence. In many ways, it was something he liked about her, the way she thought carefully before she spoke and focused on those ideas and concepts that were important to her. But at the same time, it made him feel intensely lonely. He was so used to sharing every little detail with Kathryn, every serious or silly little nuance of everything that happened around them—it pulled them together, that co-experiencing of the world. He shook his head disparagingly once again, angry with himself and already regretting the path his thoughts had taken. He tried so hard not to compare them.

"Mmmmhmmm," he agreed, just a shade too late. "I just wish I could be here more often to experience it."

"You regret accepting command of Voyager?" Seven asked in surprise. Chakotay sighed again, wondering if he would eventually hyperventilate from his discontent.

"No," he lied. "Not really. I just wish I wasn't leaving Earth again so soon."

"You missed it?" Seven said in a puzzled tone. "I was under the impression that you had not lived here for quite a while prior to your arrival in the Delta Quadrant."

"I only lived here while I was in Starfleet Academy. And when I was teaching. But no, Earth hasn't been my home for many years." His voice sounded hostile and remote, even to his own ears, and he winced. Whatever his unhappiness, he would _not_ take it out on Seven. He was dreading tomorrow, dreading boarding Voyager as it embarked on its first official Starfleet mission since returning to the Alpha Quadrant.

Dreading walking on to the bridge to find Kathryn not there.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had slammed his hand furiously on the railing beneath him, once, twice, feeling the old, forgotten anger trickling back into him. He felt himself grow hot then cold.

"Chakotay, are you all right?" Seven's voice now held concern, and she had returned to his side.

"I'm fine," he murmured, wincing as he cradled his hand to his chest.

"You are damaged," Seven said, reaching for him. But he pulled his hand out of her reach.

"I said I'm fine." The words burst forth before he could recall them, and he swore silently. Why was he so out-of-control tonight? Where was his hard-won peace? He rested his elbows on the railing and buried his face in his hands. He realized he was trembling.

"You are angry with me." Seven's voice from behind him, more tentative than he had ever heard.

He felt the anger rush from his body, leaving him almost limp in its sudden absence. He lifted his head and looked beseechingly into her blue eyes.

"No, Sev," he said very softly. "I'm angry with myself." He reached out and lightly touched her cheek and then stepped past her and back into the apartment. Finding himself in the living room, he was once again drawn to the brilliant night sky and stood at the window, holding back the light drapes and simply staring.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He turned to see Seven standing in the balcony doorway.

"I don't know," he said, unable to formulate a more definitive answer.

"You are not happy," Seven observed, and when he saw the look in her eyes, he knew she meant much more than the words she had just spoken.

"No," he sighed. "I'm not."

"Is it our relationship?"

"No, Seven, I-"

"If there is something bothering you about our association, please be candid."

"I don't want to hurt you, Seven."

"My feelings are irrelevant," Seven responded flatly.

"No, Seven, they're not," Chakotay said, crossing the room swiftly and taking her hands in his. "You're a human being, an individual. Your feelings are very relevant. And very real."

"Then you wish to resume our former relationship. As friends," Seven stated bluntly. Chakotay opened his mouth, trying to dredge up a protest or at least a partial disclaimer but realized that any dissembling on his part would only demean the incredible woman that Seven had become. So he nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I think that you-"

"Suffice it to say, " Seven interrupted, "that we hold each other in equal esteem. If we did not find one another's qualities admirable, we would not have explored this side of our relationship." Once again, Chakotay found himself simply staring at her with an open mouth. Finally he nodded yet again, and the slightest of smiles brushed across Seven's lips.

"Although I have enjoyed the time we have spent together, the conclusion of our relationship does allow me to partake of an opportunity I have been offered." For the first time she looked away, a semblance of uncharacteristic guilt flashing across her face.

"Seven," Chakotay protested. "I would have supported you in whatever you wanted to do. I thought you knew that." Seven held up a hand to halt his eruption in a gesture so reminiscent of Kathryn that for a minute he could see the auburn hair and crooked smile of the captain stopping him in mid-sentence and knowing darn well what she was doing.

"I never doubted your intentions, Chakotay." Seven's voice was softer. "However, I have been offered the opportunity to study on Vulcan. That prospect holds much appeal to me. But I considered rejecting the position as it would make it difficult to see you when Voyager is docked on Earth."

"Why didn't you tell me, Seven?" Chakotay tried to keep the hurt from entering his voice. And then wondered why he was prolonging the point. This made things so much easier. They could leave one another with no regrets.

But somewhere deep inside of him, he didn't want it to be easy, at least not for him. He didn't deserve it. Somewhere someone had to pay the penance for his carelessness, and he would never willingly pass it off on anyone else.

"I concluded that informing you of my dilemma would only increase your state of agitation. You have been disturbed since Voyager returned to Earth." And that was Seven for you. He felt his throat unexpectedly swell with emotion.

"Sev…" Chakotay's voice trailed off uncertainly. But Seven saw the look in his eyes and walked quickly into his embrace. Ironically, it was probably the warmest hug they had shared. Seven hadn't yet become accustomed to embracing and often felt almost stiff and unyielding in his arms, although she attempted to relax. But this time her arms had gone around him rather strongly, and she had leaned into his chest just slightly. When they separated, she turned quickly away and strode towards the door without a word.

"Call her, Commander." It was Seven's voice from behind him, but when he whirled around, she had already disappeared, and he wondered when exactly Seven had become so human.

Then Chakotay sat down heavily on the couch and let himself cry for the first time in a very, very long time.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 4

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. He stood uncertainly on the front porch steps of the Janeway house in Indiana, clutching his jacket tighter as the brisk wind danced around him and nervously shifting from foot to foot. His hand had strayed from his side to the old-fashioned door knocker at least a dozen times but had never completed the journey. He wanted to kick himself. When had he become such a coward?

Probably at the same moment he had become such a jerk. It figured. Once you turned from who you really were, everything else in you tended to crumble.

A sudden gust of wind tore across the yard and nearly pinned him to the door frame, causing him to knock without meaning to. He caught his balance, startled, and had barely managed to compose his features when the door swung open, revealing a petite older woman who reminded him instantly of Kathryn. The same sparkling blue eyes, the same half-defiant set to her chin, the same crooked smile that suffused her entire face.

"Mrs. Janeway?" he said tentatively. "We met at Voyager's welcome home party. I'm-" His words were cut short as she reached forward and pulled him into a fierce and unexpected hug. Before he even realized it, he was already in the front hall, and Gretchen Janeway had his coat in her hand, hanging it from an antique coat hanger that was nestled into a corner.

"Of course I remember you, Captain," she said warmly as she led him down a short hallway into the kitchen.

"Look, Mrs. Janeway—"

"Please call me Gretchen, " she interrupted firmly.

"Yes, of course, thank you, Gretchen. I…I apologize for just stopping by without calling first. I-" She stopped him with a light hand on his chest, and at the familiarity of the gesture, he felt his stomach drop through to his boots.

"You are always welcome in this house, Captain. You're family to me, and family never needs to call."

"I—thank you. That means more to me than I can express," he managed, trying to keep his voice strong. "And please, call me Chakotay."

"I know what you did for Katie out there in the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay." Gretchen's voice was quiet. "You were her saving grace." He winced and made a conscious effort not to drop his gaze.

"And she was mine," he said softly. He felt sudden hot tears rushing to his eyes and tried to blink them away. But he knew that Gretchen had seen him falter.

"Sit down, Chakotay," she said, motioning towards the kitchen table. "We need to talk about this." So he sat, and her husky voice reminded him so much of Kathryn's that he would hardly have been surprised if her next words had been, "We need to define some parameters. About us." The thought made him almost grin and almost throw up at the same time.

"Here. Have a caramel brownie. They're Katie's favorite," Gretchen said, pushing a small plate in his direction.

"I—" he began to demur but then obediently took one as he realized that her words had been an order, not an offer. Gretchen Janeway might not have been Starfleet, but she had a definite command presence.

Chakotay chewed the brownie slowly, his eyes transfixed by the complex swirls and grooves of the natural wood table. He knew Gretchen was focused on him; he knew too that, just like her daughter, she was instinctive enough, and patient enough, to let him speak in his own time. Finally, when he had run out of excuses, he met her calm gaze.

"I've messed everything up, Gretchen. I've destroyed any chance that Kathryn and I could find happiness together," he said flatly. She studied him for a long moment then nodded thoughtfully.

"She is upset." Her words were careful, and, in Chakotay's mind, a hyperbolic understatement. He knew Kathryn well enough to know that she would have transcended the category of "upset" in the first millisecond that she saw Seven walk up to him at the party.

"I broke my promise," he said.

"What promise was that, Chakotay?"

"The promise I made to wait for her." He could barely squeeze the words out through the lump in his throat.

"Chakotay," Gretchen said, her eyes piercing, "I can't imagine Katie asking you to make a promise like that, especially when no one knew how long you would be stranded out in the Delta Quadrant."

He turned his head, frustration mutilating his normally placid features.

"It wasn't a promise she asked me to make, Gretchen," he spat angrily. "It was one I made to myself."

"Chakotay-"

"How can I trust myself after that?" Gretchen's hands were on his, squeezing gently.

"Was Seven of Nine the only woman you were romantically involved with on Voyager?" Her voice was quiet but the echoes of its implications thundered in Chakotay's ears.

"No," he whispered finally. "She wasn't. I had a couple of other…flings. I wouldn't really call them relationships."

"Why not?"

"Because my heart has belonged to Kathryn Janeway since I destroyed my ship to save hers!" The words were half-yelled, and Chakotay sprang up from his chair and began pacing the length of the kitchen.

"And what about Kathryn?"

Chakotay stared at Gretchen blankly.

"Did she have any 'flings' during your years on Voyager?" Her tone was penetrating, and Chakotay looked down.

"Yes," he answered in barely a whisper.

"And?"

"They were about as meaningful as mine. It was just about getting through another lonely day in the Delta Quadrant."

"And therein lies the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"I know my daughter, Chakotay. I've seen the way she handles the challenges in her life, especially if she feels she's to blame. And stranding Voyager seventy thousand light years from home rates number one on her list."

"Yes, but-"

"No, listen to me, Chakotay," Gretchen said firmly. "Did she tell you how she felt about you? Ever?"

"Well, not in so many words, but-"

"Did she ever once admit that she loved you?" Chakotay sat back down at the kitchen table, gripping the edge in frustration.

"Aloud, no. But she didn't need to, Gretchen. It was in everything about her."

"So she never told you."

Chakotay sighed. "No."

"And did you ever tell her about your feelings?"

His shoulders slumped. "Yes, once. When we were stuck on a planet together."

"New Earth," Gretchen said softly, and Chakotay's eyebrows shot upwards.

"She told you about it?" he said disbelievingly.

"Well, not in so many words, but…Her entire being softens when she recalls that time with you. It's like I'm suddenly seeing a different person. The Katie that might have been." Gretchen's words caused his chest to ache. "But she's fought all of her life to be someone else."

Chakotay nodded in mute understanding. He had seen the way Kathryn tried to balance who she was with who she thought she had to be, eventually being swallowed up in the all-consuming persona of Captain Janeway.

"Chakotay, if you don't mind telling me, what did she say when you told her how you felt?" Gretchen was leaning towards him now, her eyes intent on his face, capturing every nuance of his expressions.

Chakotay ducked his head for a minute then came up with a rueful smile. "Well, the first thing she said was, 'We need to define some parameters. About us.' And then-" Gretchen buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking slightly. Chakotay tentatively reached out a hand and touched her shoulder, perplexed by her reaction.

And then Gretchen lifted her face, and he saw that she was _laughing_. Despite himself, he started to laugh with her.

"Only my daughter would say that." She shook her head disparagingly, and Chakotay grinned. "I probably don't want to know, but what happened after that?" The smile slid from Chakotay's face, and he clasped his hands on the table in front of him, trying to channel the raging emotions into something he could express.

"I told her…" He struggled to adequately convey all that the ancient legend had meant to him. Then he knew. "I told her she had brought me the peace I could never find in my life." He choked on the last words and felt hot tears start to slip down his cheeks. "And then I walked away from her."

"If things had turned out differently…if Voyager had remained in the Delta Quadrant…what do you think would have happened between you and Seven?" Gretchen asked carefully.

Chakotay sighed. "I don't know. Probably not much. It was already wearing on me after the first few dates. I don't think I could have gone on much longer."

"It was merely chance that you and Seven happened to be together when Voyager finally arrived home," she mused. Chakotay nodded, his shoulders slumped.

"Bad timing," Gretchen remarked.

"Yes," he agreed in a whisper.

"Why are you here, Chakotay?" her words were firm yet kind, and the abrupt question jarred him.

"I wasn't sure where to find her. Starfleet Headquarters told me she had taken a leave. I thought she might be here with you." His eyes were pleading, but Gretchen shook her head.

"To be truthful, I didn't even know she was on leave," Gretchen murmured, worry flickering in the depths of her blue eyes.

"I haven't spoken to her since the night of the homecoming celebration. I don't know what happened that night. I don't know why she…"

"Maybe she finally realized that it was okay to love you and to show it. That you were home, and she could stop punishing herself," Gretchen said. "I think when she saw that you were alone at the party, she thought that maybe things were over between you and Seven. But then…" He turned his head away sharply but couldn't dispel the mental image of Seven walking up to them. Of the biting pain in Kathryn's eyes.

"I never meant to hurt her."

"I know."

Chakotay sat silently for a moment, immersed in his own tortured thoughts.

"What is it?" Gretchen asked softly.

"She gave me her heart, and I—I…" He stopped, unable to even verbalize the rest of the sentence. Gretchen reached out and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"It's not about always being right the first time. It's about going back and fixing your mistakes." She looked steadily at him as he struggled with his emotions and finally drew a deep, shaky breath.

"I'll give you her address. She has an apartment in San Francisco near Starfleet Headquarters. I was hoping she'd buy a house and settle down, but…"

"Do you think she'll want to see me?" he whispered, the question like a stab in the heart camouflaged by the hope of butterfly wings.

"Chakotay?"

"Yes, Gretchen?"

"I hope you don't take offense to this, but what are you still doing here talking to me?" Her eyes were dancing, and a familiar half-grin was easing its way across her face. Caught by her impeccable logic, Chakotay had to laugh—and stop stalling. He pulled his large frame from the kitchen chair where he had been sitting.

"May I be excused, ma'am?" he asked, his dimples flashing.

"Dismissed," Gretchen said, in true Janeway fashion.

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 5

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. It would have been simpler to write a letter, send a dozen roses, or perhaps even infiltrate the Borg wielding nothing more than one of Neelix's leola root casseroles. And it would have been infinitely less scary. He stood unmoving, _unbreathing_, in front of her apartment door.

And then all at once refusing to become hostage to his fears yet again, he tapped the door chime and held his breath. The door to Kathryn's apartment slid open with malevolent speed, and he almost laughed at himself for having been nervous.

_He should have been terrified._

She stood quietly in the doorway, the soft lights from behind illuminating her hair into tendrils of fire that spilled down her shoulders and over her cheeks. She was simply dressed in a loose nightgown of cream and silk that cascaded smoothly down her body, lightly brushing the floor and revealing the red tips of her toes. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the slight twisting of her fingers the only hint that she was anything other than perfectly at ease. Her eyes were dusky blue, the way they always seemed to deepen at the end of the day. Chakotay didn't move.

He was transfixed.

"Chakotay," her voice was soft.

"You look beautiful."

She gave him an odd look. "Been hitting the Antarian cider again, Captain?"

"I-what? No, no." he assured her hastily.

"Do you want to come in?" There was the slightest hint of laughter in her voice. "I usually try to avoid standing in the hallway in my nightgown."

"Oh, yes, Captain. I mean, Admiral." He entered her apartment hurriedly, then stopped when she came to a standstill in front of him, a strange smile playing around her lips.

"Chakotay, in all the years I've known you, I don't think we've ever had such a purely Kathryn moment," she said wryly, glancing down at her attire.

"Oh, right," he mumbled. "Sorry, Kathryn."

"Sit down." She gestured to the couch standing in the center of the living room. It was a rich brown, sleek and overstuffed, with a mound of pillows that could hide a small child. "Can I get you some tea? Or would you like to join me in a cup of coffee?"

_Whiskey, straight up, he thought._

"Tea would be perfect," he said aloud. He strode over to the couch and sat on the very edge, not allowing himself to relax back into the cushions. Kathryn walked over to a replicator at one end of the room. She withdrew two steaming mugs and set one down on the coffee table in front of him. Needing something to do with his hands, he grasped it immediately, taking a tentative sip. He swallowed then looked at her in surprise.

"This is my own blend, the one I programmed on Voyager," he murmured.

"Yes," she said. "I downloaded the specifications before I left the ship." A slight flush washed over her pale cheeks. He flinched, understanding exactly what she hadn't said.

"Kathryn," he said quietly. He took her free hand in both of his, cradling her tiny fingers in his much larger ones. She looked away for a minute, but then her eyes met his, and he saw the barest beginnings of tears. And then he saw what he hadn't seen before, when he had almost lost himself to her right there in the doorway. Her vibrant blue eyes were dull and bloodshot, with seemingly ineradicable smudges underneath. Her hair that had seemed to glow in a glorious halo around her face was merely tangled. Her cheeks were white, a pallor that even makeup couldn't conceal, and she was way too thin, thinner than he had ever seen her on Voyager, even in the worst of times.

She was still beautiful, and his heart was pounding way too hard.

"Kathryn, I-" he started to say.

But something in her eyes hardened, and she yanked her hand away from his, rising from the couch and walking over to the enormous picture window in the back of the room. Her curtains were open, but the window offered no breathtaking view like his. It was filled by the stoic façade of Starfleet Headquarters rising in close proximity, all windows and doors and sharp corners and no beauty.

"Why did you come here, Chakotay?" Her voice was ragged, as if the edges had been worn away by all the pain of the years. "To comfort me? To tell me that you're sorry? Or that you feel sorry for me? Poor Kathryn, she really managed to humiliate herself at the homecoming party. Didn't she realize that he was in love with Seven? What made her think she ever had a chance?" Her arms were crossed tightly in front of her chest as if holding some part of her inside.

"Stop it, Kathryn," Chakotay said roughly, walking over to stand beside her.

"No, I won't!" she yelled, stepping close to him, so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "I've held everything in for seven years. Seven years, Chakotay! Just so things would be easier on everybody else! But I'm tired, and you know what? It doesn't matter anymore! It never did. It never made any difference." She was almost crying, the words bursting from her throat like misaimed photon torpedoes.

And she was standing way too close.

"I love you, Kathryn," he said fiercely. "And that's all that matters to me." He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him, resting his forehead against hers. He could feel every part of her battling, the way her chest heaved with suppressed sobs, the way her heart was pounding in almost the same rhythm as his, the way her hands were trembling as they pressed against his chest, trying to push him away. She finally gave up, a definitive instant of surrender. Her arms dropped to her sides and then slid around his back, holding him tightly. Her forehead pressed wearily against his, their lips almost brushing. He felt her tears wander onto his own cheeks or maybe he was crying too.

"I hate needing you the way I do," she murmured.

"I need you just as much," he said.

"I know," she whispered, and suddenly her mouth was pressed against his, and he was gasping for breath. The world seemed to turn momentarily dark all around them with fading pinpricks of light in the distance and then the room was all blazing sun and brilliance. He gently stepped away from Kathryn and tried to steady himself. Her eyes were dark when she looked at him.

"Come. Sit with me." He held out his hand and led her back to the couch. She followed without protest, but she seemed almost hollow, as if she had exerted the last bit of passion within her soul with that kiss. Her eyes refused to meet his.

"I need to tell you about Seven," he said, lifting her chin with his hand. "I need you to know." She flinched but held his gaze steadily.

"First off, we're no longer together, if we ever really were."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Angry words with no anger behind them.

"It means that it wasn't working with Seven. And not because of anything either of us did. It didn't work because it was wrong. Since the first moment we met, anyone but you has been wrong."

"That's not what the Admiral told me." Her voice dripped with bitterness colored by guilt.

"Kathryn," he said in dismay. "What did she say? And why would you believe her? She was trying to manipulate us all and you were at the top of her list." He attempted to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"She told me that the two of you got married. And that Seven was injured in an away mission I sent her on. She said that Seven died in your arms. And that you were never the same after that," Kathryn said softly, her voice distant.

"Did you ever think that maybe she just told you that to get you to agree with her insane plan?" Chakotay asked, his voice verging on true anger. "Because with the way things were going, I can't imagine that we ever would have gotten that far."

"But why would she lie to me like that? The fact that you were married wouldn't have changed my mind."

"I don't know," Chakotay admitted. "But I can tell you one thing, Kathryn, if I was never the same, it was because I was being eaten up by guilt—guilt that I married her when I knew I should have been with you." He felt his voice catch on the words and rubbed a quick hand across his face.

"Chakotay, you wouldn't have married her if things hadn't gotten better between the two of you. You're not that kind of man," Kathryn protested, taking a sip from the steaming silver mug cradled in her hands. Chakotay dropped his fist to his lap with a thump; she was determined to negate everything he was saying.

"Did you ever think, you stubborn, irritating woman, that _perhaps_ the reason I ended up marrying Seven in that timeline was because you drove me to it?" he said in exasperation. To his surprise, Kathryn began to laugh through her mouthful of coffee, spraying him, herself, and the coffee table in front of them.

"Graceful," he commented dryly, his eyebrows twitching. "I can see why they promoted you to the Admiralty."

He finally got what he had been hoping for—a rise out of Kathryn. The defeated look in her eyes was replaced by annoyance, challenge, and something else he couldn't quite define.

And then she punched him.

He bent over, clutching his shoulder in unfeigned agony. That had been no pulled punch. She had put all of her strength into it. And despite her size, that strength was not inconsiderable. He stared mutely at her with wide, pleading eyes.

She shrugged and grinned. "It made me feel better." She propped her legs up on the table and took another sip of coffee. Chakotay continued to massage his injury, half-glaring at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm never going to get the upper hand with you, am I?" he asked.

"You haven't so far," she responded airily. "Of course, there's always time. The rest of our lives."

"That's a long time," he agreed. "At least I hope so." He winked at her and crossed his fingers, and suddenly all she could see in her mind was the vast green forests of New Earth, his mostly unspoken pledges of love, and the way his every thought, his every gesture, was designed specifically with her in mind.

"I want that," she whispered suddenly. "I want the rest of our lives." She reached out and lightly traced the tattoo on his forehead.

"So do I," he murmured, his lips suddenly trembling. Then he rose from the couch and offered her his hand. She took it and melted into him as he pulled her into a fierce embrace, and all he could think in his mind was how she fit perfectly into him, how their bodies and minds and souls melded seamlessly into one another as if they had never been apart.

And as he stood there, holding her tightly in his arms, this woman he loved with every inch of who he was, he realized that after everything, finally, he knew exactly what he was doing.

And it was right.

The End


End file.
